


cheffing and sabotage

by mcwho



Series: himbo-verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cooking, Established Relationship, Horny Steve Rogers, Humor, M/M, SOMETHINGS getting eaten alright, Snark, in all universes there is one constant and that is steves perpetual hard on for bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcwho/pseuds/mcwho
Summary: "So,” Steve says conversationally. “That’s a yes on the olive oil. For lube purposes.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: himbo-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686034
Comments: 51
Kudos: 929





	cheffing and sabotage

**Author's Note:**

> annnd we're back thanks to ao3 user fullmoonblues and their comment: "Please give us the sequel where Bucky tries to cook and Steve keeps distracting him with sex and then claims it went wrong because Bucky cant cook"
> 
> bon appetit (or not, because .... well you'll see)
> 
> many thanks to @venusmonstrosa for beta

Steve warily surveys the small mountain of ingredients on their kitchen island as Bucky sets down the last shopping bag. Their trip to the grocery store had been all fun and games, but now it’s crunch time and Bucky is tying his hair up with a look of fierce determination in his eyes that scares and arouses Steve in equal parts.

“Gonna have to give to the food bank tomorrow to get this amount of waste off my conscience.”

“Hey,” Bucky snaps. “We’re not wasting anything. I’m getting this right first time ‘round.”

“ _We_ implies that I’ll be involved in this process,” Steve says, taking a seat. “Which I won’t. Which is what worries me.”

Steve still has not seen Bucky cook anything past toast-level in all the time he’s known him, and for all his goading that got them here, he’s suddenly a little concerned. But there’s no real deterring Bucky at this point – he frowns and turns away from Steve decidedly, reaching up to pull a chopping board from a high cabinet. 

He has to stretch for it, and Steve’s eyes fall to the small of his back as his t-shirt lifts high enough to reveal the dimples there. Checking him out shamelessly, Steve asks, “Need some help?”

“Nope,” says Bucky, which leaves Steve with nothing else to do but think about how his thumbs always fit into those dimples so nicely, like he was made for ease of fucking. Bucky grabs what he needs and comes back down to rest on his heels again, and his ass jiggles a little and _that_ sets Steve’s thoughts spiralling some more, and – the scales tip in arousal’s favour. Bucky reaches back up for something else, and before Steve’s even aware of what’s happening, he’s standing and crossing the floor towards him. 

“I said I’ve got it,” Bucky says, hearing Steve come up behind him.

“I know,” Steve says as he grabs the mixing bowl Bucky’s reaching for anyway and sets it down on the counter for him – and then rucks Bucky’s shirt up again to get his hands on him, using his grip to pull him against him. “Hi,” he mumbles, nosing along his neck. Bucky huffs a laugh at him.

“Does your dick ever even have time to dry?”

“I just need ten minutes,” Steve tells him.

“Hot,” Bucky deadpans as Steve cages him against the counter and attaches his mouth to the side of his neck. “You gonna tell me ‘just the tip’ next?”

“Don’t go giving me ideas,” Steve says, grinding against him. Bucky makes a low noise in his throat as Steve mouths at his neck, teeth grazing his skin while he muses over how well olive oil would work as a lubricant. He faintly remembers something about the Greeks using it – or was that for salad dressing? He pulls the needed cabinet open anyway, because how much harm could liquified olives do, uncapping and smearing it over his fingers. It’s pricier than their usual lubricants but Steve happens to think Bucky’s worth it. He’s selfless like that.

“That’s not what that’s for,” Bucky says in a perfunctory protest. He sounds like he’s trying very hard to seem unamused, but he’s still pushing his ass against Steve’s crotch, so not exactly hard enough. 

“What’s it for then?” Steve asks, tugging Bucky’s pants down, sliding his hand lower. “Your gourmet dishes?”

“You’re a dick,” Bucky says, voice cracking as Steve goes right in with two slick fingers. Steve hums noncommittally, cock fattening up at the shocked moan Bucky lets out as he works them both inside him, and well, if he wanted it slow, he shouldn’t have been standing around being all _Bucky_ , and besides, he never wants it slow, he can barely get Steve on and in him fast enough most days. Steve loves him. 

“Love you,” Steve croons unthinkingly as he massages Bucky’s velvety-slick walls. Bucky grips the edge of the counter and shivers. Steve pushes his fingers deeper, stretching him, and then Bucky arches his back so the angle’s even deeper and he groans, grabbing at the waistband of his own pants and shoving them down all the way to free his dick.

“C’mon,” Bucky hurries him, right on cue, voice tight. 

“What, you not gonna say it back?” Steve pouts, fingering him faster, like he would if he were trying to get him off on that alone, digits flexing and curling inside of him. Bucky groans, then Steve crooks them, rubs tight circles into his spot, and Bucky starts letting out these shocked whines that go right to Steve’s dick. Steve groans, lowering his head to nip and suck at Bucky’s neck, leaving deep, red marks that will bruise nicely later, and Bucky tilts his head to the side and lets Steve at him, of course he does, he’s so good once he’s gotten a little encouragement. “Breaking my heart here,” he says against his neck.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bucky groans, exasperated like Steve’s being difficult on purpose, which. He won’t deny that. “L- _oh_ -ove you, ohmygod,” Bucky manages in between pants.

“Love my dick, is what you love,” Steve says, relenting and slowly pulling his fingers out of him, shoving his own pants down, slick fingers wrapping around his cock as he positions himself. He feels vaguely proud as he places a hand in the middle of Bucky’s back to bow him forwards a little. “You know, you used to need a lot more prep than this,” he says fondly. Bucky only has the time to grunt impatiently once before Steve’s shushing him and slowly fucking into him, and then Bucky’s moaning, mouth falling open with it, his voice cracking on a quiet swear as Steve fits himself all the way up inside of him. 

“Jesus. Fuck’s gotten into you?” Bucky slurs as Steve starts to rock in and out of him, jolting Bucky’s body with each thrust. Deciding to resist the pun bait, he slows his pace, watching as Bucky pushes back to meet his strokes. 

“What, you want me to stop?” Steve teases.

“No,” Bucky says quickly, like he knows Steve will, just for fun; hold still and make him ask for it instead since he wants to have an attitude about it. If that gets Steve a little hotter – sue him. He fucks him faster, Bucky’s noises urging him on until his hips are slapping against the meat of Bucky’s ass, his hands sliding over Bucky’s back, his waist, gripping his hips again, thumbs stroking circles into the pretty dimples in his back with a satisfied groan. 

Steve’s hips roll into him as Bucky pushes back, white-knuckling the edge of the counter as he arches into Steve’s thrusts and it’s too fucking much, seeing him like this, needing it this bad, it always fucking is, and when Bucky moans his name, breathy and desperate, Steve’s gone. He buries himself inside of Bucky, and Bucky clenches around him, hot and tight like he’s milking him dry, Steve sinking his teeth into his neck and coming in long, overwhelming spurts. Bucky shivers, moaning all soft like he’s the one that got off and it makes Steve a little out of his mind with affection, moaning filthy endearments against his marked skin as he slowly comes down.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes. “Buck.”

“Shut up and get me off,” Bucky tells him, voice still shaky. Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, doesn’t even mumble a surly _I was gonna_ , just pulls out of Bucky and – and gets distracted by how swollen and puffy his hole is, all thoughts of masturbating Bucky to completion suddenly dissipating because he’s dropping to his knees and licking a hot, long stripe over his rim. 

Bucky jumps and squirms, and Steve grips his hips to hold him in place, licking into him, tasting himself. 

“Fucking nasty,” Bucky’s saying, convincing absolutely nobody of his disgust. Steve hums, lips trailing over Bucky’s sinfully thick thighs, sucking and marking them up too, because how could he fucking not, before re-focusing, basking in Bucky’s broken whines as Steve pushes his tongue inside of him, slowly fucking him with it. He doesn’t have to see Bucky’s face to know he’s flushed pink, like he always is when Steve eats him, vaguely embarrassed but getting off on the fact. Steve’s fingers dig into his soft flesh, and he fits a finger into Bucky too, just shallowly at first, but it makes Bucky keen anyway, the sound high and needy.

“So messy for me,” Steve mumbles, pulling back, finger flexing inside of him as he watches Bucky leak. “I always leave you this wet, honey?” he asks, sliding his finger all the way inside, crooking it knowingly, reaching his other hand around to stroke Bucky’s cock, which is equally as drippy, leaking all over his hand.

It doesn’t take long – Bucky’s breath hitches for a long moment and then he’s moaning, _oh – oh, fuck, Steve_ , trembling all over as he comes, thighs shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Steve fits another finger inside him as he starts to come because why not, standing to support Bucky’s weight from behind, scissoring them both inside of him just to see Bucky shudder. Bucky stands there, slumped, panting through the aftershocks. Steve presses a sweet kiss to his neck. 

“So,” Steve says conversationally. “That’s a yes on the olive oil. For lube purposes.” 

“You’re washing the floor. You know what a bitch oil is to clean up?”

“This is a lot of sass for someone still spasming around my fingers.”

Bucky turns his head to glare at Steve. Steve leans in slowly and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Bucky fights a smile. “I need a nap. Take your fingers out of my ass.”

“What happened to your great culinary adventure?” Steve complains, pulling out of him obligingly. “Where’s that determined spirit from before?”

“All over the counter. You’re cleaning that up too. I’ll cook when I can feel my legs. And quit looking so _smug_.”

“Quit attributing loss of limb usage to my sexual prowess then,” Steve counters. “You know, I could just make dinner. It’s no big deal.”

“Do _not_ ,” Bucky says, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “Don’t start. I’m making dinner, this isn’t a forfeit. It’s a – timeout.”

“How convenient.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, riling him up on purpose now. “Seems like you’re taking an easy out. Own up to it, is all I’m saying.”

“You’re an asshole, Rogers,” Bucky tells him, turning to head upstairs. Steve shamelessly watches him leave.

“An asshole you let–”

“You trying to talk your way into celibacy?” Bucky asks from the stairs.

“Sleep well,” Steve calls, earning a snort from Bucky.

*

Steve falls asleep for a while – sex does it to him too, no matter how much he likes to tease Bucky about it – and he’s awoken by the smell of burning, which can only mean that Bucky is making good on his promise to showcase his cooking skills.

He wanders into the kitchen, scratching sleepily at his beard. “You don’t need to have it on so high,” he says, eyeing the oven.

“I turned it down, but.” Bucky waves defeatedly in the general direction of the array of appliances and ingredients scattered around the kitchen. “It didn’t help.”

“Let me have a look,” Steve says, crouching and peering into the oven where what looks like a lasagne is cooking, or rather being charred from above due to the wrong setting. Steve winces and looks up at Bucky, who already looks exhausted. “There’s no easy way to say this,” Steve begins. Bucky sighs deeply.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

“Unsurprisingly– okay, okay,” Steve relents as Bucky pelts him with an oven glove. “Yes, it’s fucked. But it looked like it was good, just messed up a little at the last hurdle.”

Bucky sets his jaw. “I’m doing it again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I _can_ do this, damn it. I’m just – out of practice,” he swears.

“Okay,” Steve says, holding his hands up. “Alright. I don’t have anywhere to be today.”

*

Bucky tries it again. The exact same dish, but this time Steve sets the oven up for him. While it cooks, they load the dishwasher, and then Bucky inspects the previously oil-splattered hardwood to double-check Steve’s work while Steve tells Bucky how original doubting his basic domestic skills for fun is, and that he should get his _own_ thing.

Eventually, the timer dings, and Bucky goes for the oven before Steve can even fully entertain any – or many – sinful thoughts about Bucky’s suggestively sleep-mussed bedhead, setting the dish on a cooling rack and immediately grabbing a fork, shoving it at Steve.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks as Steve digs in tentatively, chewing slowly before he swallows.

“Okay,” he says, as gently as possible, trying his best to keep his face straight, “Pros – you’ve got a good foundation. Everything’s in there. Pasta, beef – is this two different cheeses?”

“Quit bullshitting me.”

“I’m not,” Steve complains. “This is genuinely–”

“Steve,” Bucky says, straight-faced.

“There’s a fuckton of salt in this,” Steve says. “I can feel the granules when I chew.”

“I knew I should’ve measured,” Bucky frowns.

“Hey, you’re getting there,” Steve soothes, rubbing Bucky’s back while he stares at the dish in disgust. Steve pulls Bucky against his chest, saving the over-salted lasagna from his wrathful gaze. “At least you didn’t burn anything this time.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. “Because you were working temperature control.”

“Semantics,” Steve shrugs. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. _You’ll get ‘em next time_ ,” Bucky repeats, back to sassing him. “What, you coaching me, Rogers?”

“Like you wouldn’t love that,” Steve says with an eyeroll. Bucky’s flaming propensity for jocks makes Steve wonder how the hell he got through the education system anal virginity intact. “Had to replace two jerseys in the past month because of your little fetish.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Bucky complains into Steve’s shirt, back to playing the wounded gazelle. “I’m fragile.”

“Uh-huh. Very delicate,” Steve deadpans. “I’ll handle the seasoning next time.”

“Let’s get started,” Bucky says, then lifts his head to press his lips to Steve’s in what he probably thinks is going to be a simple thank-you peck. “Mm,” Bucky hums, pulling away, a look on his face. “That _is_ salty.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve says absently, already making tactical plans. “You clean up earlier?” he asks, unceremoniously sliding the hand on Bucky’s waist into Bucky’s pants.

“No, I-” he begins, cutting himself off as Steve’s fist closes around his dick. “Jesus – It’s been _two hours_ ,” Bucky says.

“Well I’m sorry for finding you attractive,” Steve says, slowly starting to stroke him.

Bucky huffs a breathless laugh. “Wanna talk about fetishes, let’s talk about how you this lasagna’s been like a fucking aphrodisiac for you.”

“You think your salt-with-a-dash-of-pasta’s turning me on?” Steve asks in amusement, mostly focused on the feeling of Bucky’s dick hardening in his hand.

“Been all over me ever since I started cooking,” Bucky says.

“ _Trying_ to cook. And so what if I have been?” Steve says. “I didn’t hear any complaints.”

“It’s sabotage,” Bucky says. “You like cooking for me and watching me try to do it’s getting you hard ‘cause I keep needing your help, all clueless housewife-like.” Steve pauses, and then he bends Bucky over the island so he doesn’t have to deal with his smug face.

And anyway – if Steve likes to help Bucky out, give him things, so what? It’s not like Bucky doesn’t _want_ those things, be it food or dick or affection. Steve tugs Bucky’s pants lower, kneading at his thighs pensively, and Bucky looks back at him and says, “What? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re mouthy, is what you are,” Steve says, smacking his ass just because he can. “What, am I not doing my job right? You still got enough brain cells in play to psychoanalyze me?”

Bucky’s smiling lazily, pushing back against Steve a little because he wants dick, like he _always_ does, the minx. Steve tugs his own sweats down low enough, rubbing his fingers over Bucky’s hole, still a little open from earlier, and it’s practically a sin, letting it go unfilled.

“All I’m saying is I probably would’ve made an edible dinner by now if you’d let me off your dick long enough.”

“Bullshit,” Steve calls, pressing up against him and then slowly sliding in, his vision whiting out for a second as Bucky’s mouth drops open at the stretch, the sound of his gasps grounding Steve as he sinks all the way into the insanely tight heat of him. “All that talk, you want it just as bad.”

“Yeah, wanna get _fucked_. ‘S different,” Bucky pants as Steve thrusts into him again, rolling his hips, God that’s fucking good.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. “That all you want? Making you come all over this dick all you need from me, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, and Bucky gives a low sound of dissent, manages a _that’s not-_ before choking on his own words as Steve pounds him, sliding his fingers into Bucky’s pretty hair, and then wrapping it around his fist and tugging.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky moans, gasping for it, and yeah, alright, it satisfies Steve, it fucking does, scratches that same itch as when Bucky tucks into a dish Steve made him or lets Steve rub him down after a long day and passes out from satisfaction or begs for his dick like he needs it to live, _Jesus_ , Steve groans, grinding into him, and Bucky moans wetly, “Steve – fuck, that’s good, don’t stop–”

Steve gets Bucky near-upright, holding himself up on his palms while he fucks into him, and Bucky’s gets slicker and more open with every thrust, his body shaking

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says, low, lips by Bucky’s ear. “If I were that kind of guy, I might get offended, you calling me easy, but it doesn’t take much to get that pretty little hole aching for me either, does it baby?” Steve asks. 

Bucky shivers, and Steve’s hips roll into him, fucking him in deep, short thrusts that make Bucky’s fingernails scratch at the cool marble, make him let out these desperate sobs and beg for more.

“That’s good, huh?” Steve murmurs, Bucky clenching around him. 

“ _Unhh_ ,” Bucky moans, “so good, so fucking- Steve-”

“That’s what I thought,” Steve smiles.


End file.
